Saturday, March 25, 2006
This morning
- Lovely morning.
- Good morning. Yes, it is.
- Lovely morning, shame we can't shoot all the idiots.
- What idiots?
- The idiots, the people who keep telling you they are clever.
- Right, goodbye then.
(0) comments
- Good morning. Yes, it is.
- Lovely morning, shame we can't shoot all the idiots.
- What idiots?
- The idiots, the people who keep telling you they are clever.
- Right, goodbye then.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Living on your own
I don't know where I am with the house purchase, I never really have.
I pulled some moves last week and they may or may not bear fruit.
If someone asked me to describe the process of buying a house in one word I would say, 'Vague'.
Whatever the outcome (buying or renting) I'm one step closer to living alone again, and the thing that worries the most about this is toilet flushing.
If it's yellow you really should mellow and if it's only you in the house then from where comes the reason to flush it down?
I'm not regular in the number two department and I'm slightly obsessive-compulsive and I'm scared shitless (see what I've done there) that I'll get trapped in this behaviour of just leaving it one more go and one more go. I can't explain it but I can feel it. Maybe something like you feel when you are out of petrol and the thrill of going on for just one more petrol station - even deep down you know you'll probably be alright because you went at least as far as this on empty last time you ran out, or maybe I'll think of a better analogy, or maybe you'll just understand or you'll never.
Thinking about it, I am a bit... I was just thinking through the house thing and I remember how much I love the idea of filling up a hover bag... and there are a million other things...like how much I like putting things in bins and doing other people's washing up.
(0) comments
I pulled some moves last week and they may or may not bear fruit.
If someone asked me to describe the process of buying a house in one word I would say, 'Vague'.
Whatever the outcome (buying or renting) I'm one step closer to living alone again, and the thing that worries the most about this is toilet flushing.
If it's yellow you really should mellow and if it's only you in the house then from where comes the reason to flush it down?
I'm not regular in the number two department and I'm slightly obsessive-compulsive and I'm scared shitless (see what I've done there) that I'll get trapped in this behaviour of just leaving it one more go and one more go. I can't explain it but I can feel it. Maybe something like you feel when you are out of petrol and the thrill of going on for just one more petrol station - even deep down you know you'll probably be alright because you went at least as far as this on empty last time you ran out, or maybe I'll think of a better analogy, or maybe you'll just understand or you'll never.
Thinking about it, I am a bit... I was just thinking through the house thing and I remember how much I love the idea of filling up a hover bag... and there are a million other things...like how much I like putting things in bins and doing other people's washing up.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Hello again
Been a while. I have a lot to say, but if I start telling a big story I fear I may never finish. I'm also a bit rusty with this sort of thing, so I'll just start slowly, and see how we get on.
The last post that I never published started by asking 'Why are there so many Terry's Chocolate Orange mugs?' Am I right, are there lots of these mugs in circulation?
Today is Saturday and I haven't done much. Sunday is a work day (I'm in Bahrain)
Friday is the holy day for Muslims, so the normal weekend is Thursday and Friday. However, some private companies, specifically financial institutions, are open on a Thursday to fit in better with their foreign counterparts. They then take Friday and Saturday as their weekend, which is what I'm following.
I've managed to injure my body again. I suffered for the last two weeks with headaches and general disconnectedness of unknown origin; I've probably aged 10 years as a result. Today I've worried my stomach slightly as a result of using a comb to spoon Alpen from a glass tumbler into my mouth.
I got up this morning and went for a coffee, then did some shopping and picked up my laundry. I've moved back to the original, pre Grand Prix, hotel. I spoke to the manager when I arrived about the torrid time I'd had in the downtown hotel (a sister hotel of this one). He probably didn't need to be told this as my face reflected the torment of five nights disjointed dreams, of misfiring air conditioners, drunk Saudi men and Iraqi 'musical' bands. The manager responded by offering me a free room upgrade to a suite. So I've moved from a room the size of a bed, into a suite of three rooms, two TVs, a bedroom the size of badminton court, a kitchenette, two settees, a dining table, fresh flowers etc. All rather wasted on just me, but at least it's quiet.
It was the kitchenette that inspired me to buy the Alpen from the supermarket this morning. From the shop I could visualise a microwave, a hotplace, and a whole wall of cupboards and draws. I figured that would be enough equipment to deal with the preparation of some cereal and milk.
I headed back to the hotel, but when I got there, I found the cupboards were bare. No bowls, no plates, no knives, no spoons no nothing. After some pondering of I took the glass tumbler from the bathroom and poured the Alpen and milk into that, figuring I could scoop the mixture out with my hands like a bear eating honey.
I wasn't satisfied with this solution, so I looked around some more and found an 'Emergency Travel Kit' in the bathroom containing a plastic comb. This sort of worked as long as I kept the mixture dry enough to prevent the milk from seeping between the bristles. I doubt that I can get sick from whatever lives on a plastic comb, so it must have been something I ate or drank yesterday.
(0) comments
The last post that I never published started by asking 'Why are there so many Terry's Chocolate Orange mugs?' Am I right, are there lots of these mugs in circulation?
Today is Saturday and I haven't done much. Sunday is a work day (I'm in Bahrain)
Friday is the holy day for Muslims, so the normal weekend is Thursday and Friday. However, some private companies, specifically financial institutions, are open on a Thursday to fit in better with their foreign counterparts. They then take Friday and Saturday as their weekend, which is what I'm following.
I've managed to injure my body again. I suffered for the last two weeks with headaches and general disconnectedness of unknown origin; I've probably aged 10 years as a result. Today I've worried my stomach slightly as a result of using a comb to spoon Alpen from a glass tumbler into my mouth.
I got up this morning and went for a coffee, then did some shopping and picked up my laundry. I've moved back to the original, pre Grand Prix, hotel. I spoke to the manager when I arrived about the torrid time I'd had in the downtown hotel (a sister hotel of this one). He probably didn't need to be told this as my face reflected the torment of five nights disjointed dreams, of misfiring air conditioners, drunk Saudi men and Iraqi 'musical' bands. The manager responded by offering me a free room upgrade to a suite. So I've moved from a room the size of a bed, into a suite of three rooms, two TVs, a bedroom the size of badminton court, a kitchenette, two settees, a dining table, fresh flowers etc. All rather wasted on just me, but at least it's quiet.
It was the kitchenette that inspired me to buy the Alpen from the supermarket this morning. From the shop I could visualise a microwave, a hotplace, and a whole wall of cupboards and draws. I figured that would be enough equipment to deal with the preparation of some cereal and milk.
I headed back to the hotel, but when I got there, I found the cupboards were bare. No bowls, no plates, no knives, no spoons no nothing. After some pondering of I took the glass tumbler from the bathroom and poured the Alpen and milk into that, figuring I could scoop the mixture out with my hands like a bear eating honey.
I wasn't satisfied with this solution, so I looked around some more and found an 'Emergency Travel Kit' in the bathroom containing a plastic comb. This sort of worked as long as I kept the mixture dry enough to prevent the milk from seeping between the bristles. I doubt that I can get sick from whatever lives on a plastic comb, so it must have been something I ate or drank yesterday.
